


of kings and hellhounds

by doctormissy



Series: all aboard the ineffable plan [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Background Relationships, Christmas, Dogs, Established Relationship, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Footnotes, Hell, Hellhounds, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Love, Post-Canon, Wing Grooming, follows "all aboard the ineffable plan", hard-ons, in which christmas is more of a plot device than the main point, lucifer went to hell and then came back, negotiations of truce between heaven and hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormissy/pseuds/doctormissy
Summary: ‘Listen, urchin, if I were, hypothetically, to give you a dog, what would you, hypothetically, name it?’‘Hang on,’ Trixie said, snickering and a little too smart, ‘are you talking about a Hellhound? Are giving me a Hellhound? You gotta Name those to shape their personality, right? I know you do, Adam told me all about it.’Or, in other words, it’s Christmas, demons are annoying as ever, Lucifer makes some interesting discoveries, and Chloe brings biscuits.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: all aboard the ineffable plan [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1492577
Comments: 18
Kudos: 138
Collections: 9 Days Christmas Writing Challenge





	1. in which hellhounds are stumbled upon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dacelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dacelin/gifts), [WittyWritter96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWritter96/gifts).



> For Dacelin because Trixie really needs a hellhound, and for WittyWritter96 for simply wanting more ;)
> 
> *️⃣ set after "all aboard the ineffable plan"
> 
> 1️⃣ part one of a three-part storyline
> 
> ✅ should make sense even without any knowledge of that work
> 
> ❎ may be a tad confusing without knowing both fandoms
> 
> Merry Christmas, and enjoy! ♡

_Bloody Hell_.

Those two words about summed up Lucifer’s current situation.

On Earth, it was the 23rd of December, a regular Monday that, being two days before Christmas, was slightly leaning towards irregularity, choked with last-minute shoppers and the smell of biscuits and slightly drunk since the afternoon. But he wasn’t on Earth.

He was, self-evidently, in Hell. His hard-won dark and damp kingdom.

Ever since he left the somewhat more stabilised place to Beelzebub and Belial in July, he has been coming back every month for a meeting of the Council. That was no news. They talked paperwork, went over the demons’ latest complaints, despatched units to fix new holes in walls and leaky pipes. Then they held a day-long audience. It was tedious at best, but it was the only system that seemed to work for everyone.

Riots were, somehow, becoming scarcer and scarcer, and no demon even _dreamt_ [1] of a revolution _now_.

But this was no regular meeting. And what really took the biscuit was the fact that for a reason that was somewhere between _just because_ and _too much paperwork_ , it had to have been rescheduled from the 9th[2]. As if Lucifer weren’t busy enough with his humans and their ridiculous holiday habits—such as picking out a puppy for Beatrice or talking Maze out of adding a bottle of something alcoholic to _every_ batch of gingerbread men[3] and chocolate cookies she was making together with Linda.

He sighed. He thumbed through the Heavenly-bright documents and threw them onto the large stone desk. They landed with a slap. ‘Cowards, the lot of them. They want a truce between the sides and yet they’re too holy to grace us with their presence,’ he said with a scoff. ‘It would all go much more quickly if we didn’t have to send everything back and forth via tube mail.’

Have we mentioned this was an unusual meeting?

Well, almost a year and a half after the failed Apocalypse and five months after a crucial conversation about the Ineffable Plan and purposeful lack of war[4], negotiations of an armistice, if not straightforward cooperation, were finally in progress.

Very slowly and behind on schedule, but in progress nonetheless.

‘The final meeting’zz on New Year’zz,’ Beelzebub reminded him, zir own annoyance creeping into zir voice in the form of a slight buzz. An amazing idea, that was. ‘We just have to doublecheck this paperwork and be done with it.’

Belial frowned at Lucifer, and the file he was reading. ‘I don’t agree with the amendment about notice. Working for Hell or… _Heaven_ is for life, we shouldn’t accommodate the Traitors and let anyone just quit—’

Beelzebub cleared zir throat. ‘Send the Archangels a note then. Make our suffering longer.’

‘Yes, and I suppose the subsection about marriage between angels and demons isn’t to your taste either, is it?’ Lucifer gave the Prince a toothy, completely false smile. Belial was a slow, old-fashioned demon. Didn’t like too much change. It was good to have him as a loyal supporter, but when it came to fresh ideas and new laws, he was _stubborn_. He snarled, and Lucifer said, ‘Look who you’re sitting next to[5]. Your odds aren’t very good. And that amendment is Amenadiel’s work, and you do _not_ want to piss him off. Can we move on?’

They have been at it for nine hours now, if the annoyingly loud clock was any proof. It would be dark in LA by now. There was no way he would manage to obtain a dog for the insistent child by Christmas Day.

‘The formulation of Article 5 Subsection 2 is substandard,’ Dagon noted proudly. Finding even the tiniest of mistakes were her greatest joy—besides tormenting the worst of Hell’s worst, that is. ‘They must rewrite it. Look, My King.’

She passed the file to Lucifer. He was _this close_ to pinching the bridge of his nose and calling it quits. He looked at Maze, who was toying with her blades and popping a chewing gum rather indifferently. She was enjoying this, the little rascal.

And—said subsection was fully scribbled over with Dagon’s signature green glitter gel pen and illegible at this point. It was about Earth agents, and she was still a little too bitter about Crowley and had a few objections, apparently.

‘Send this up. Beelzebub,’ he turned to the Prince, ‘make sure Gabriel has this reworked within the hour and ask him for notes on the subsection we added to Article 12.’

‘Why me?’ ze asked, unimpressed. The swarm of flies and the single moth that were circling around zir head sped up. They, too, mirrored zir agitation.

‘Why, you’re the one who’s sleeping with him,’ he said in a terrifyingly saccharine voice. ‘Be a dear and follow your King’s orders. The sooner we’re _done_ , the sooner we can all go to our _significant others_.’

The meaningful look he sent zir didn’t help it much. But that relationship was anything but a secret these days. Virtually all of Heaven and Hell knew; it was in the paperwork, for Elvis’ sake. That hypocritical excuse of a bunch of reports[6] was practically the model for the Treaty.

And Lucifer really wanted to go back to Chloe.

Beelzebub jotted down a quick note and placed it inside the pneumatic mail canister together with the documents in question. Ze sealed it, and off it went through the tube. It was an old-fashioned mode of transport, yes, but still faster than the fax machine Dagon had suggested.

Ze plopped back into zir chair, and with a question about Article 6, Human Relationships, Belial’s protests that neither demons nor angels should mix with humans— _you know how well it went with the Nephilim_ —and Maze stabbing the table an inch from his hand[7], the long-winded meeting went on.

It was the 24th, 9:19 a.m., when all paperwork was approved for final discussion face-to-face and, hopefully, signing in triplicate and coming into force by 1st of June 2020.

Lucifer had told Chloe he’d be long, but he hadn’t expected it to take quite _this_ long, not even with Hell’s standards. He all but dashed out of the Council Chamber and through the winding corridors of the Castle. A bit of clean air was priority number one after breathing fire and brimstone for 24 hours. He wasn’t used to this climate anymore.

He also wasn’t used to random Hellhounds strolling through the Castle, out of their kennels. He almost _tripped over_ one when he was rounding a corner. ‘Bloody Hell, what are _you_ doing here? Shoo!’ he told the beast. It snarled at him, baring its fangs and breathing out a cloud of smoke. But he was its master. It had to listen.

‘I’m—I’m sorry, My Lord,’ someone behind him said. He recognised them as one of the Eric triplets. ‘She’s just had young ones, some five weeks ago, and, and she bit me and ran away when I tried to take her away, sir. On Hastur’s orders.’

‘What does _he_ want with her?’ Lucifer asked, spinning around to face the demon. His leg was oozing black, but the bite wasn’t deep enough to discorporate him.

‘Not her, sir, the pups. She was protecting them. And I dunno. I know better than to ask the Duke questions, sir.’

Well, whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Not that anything ever was in Hell.

And—Lucifer must have gone crazy, or something, because instead of putting the Eric out of his misery and leaving, he said, ‘Show them to me.’

They walked—or, well, Lucifer walked and Eric limped—for about a quarter of a mile to the Royal Kennels[8]. There, the Hellion showed him the small room where they held the new-born pups. The mother ran to them, but Lucifer needed to take a look. He ordered her to stay put.

There was nothing special about the five small Hellhounds. They couldn’t even breathe fire or tear a person apart yet. In this stage of life, the brown things were near as indiscernible from regular dog pups.

Lucifer remembered Beatrice, at that moment. She repeatedly begged him for a Hellhound, because they were much cooler than normal dogs and Adam had one and they could be _friends_. He repeatedly told her _no, you can’t have a Hellhound, there will be no more of that_. He promised her a normal dog. Chloe agreed to a normal dog.

But when given an innocuous name, a Hellhound could _become_ a normal dog…

He turned to the demon and snapped his fingers at him. ‘You, send a message to the Council to investigate anything dubious Hastur might be up to.’

He shuffled off with a faint _yes, My Lord_ , and Lucifer was left alone with the bundles of blooming evil. He took out his phone: the only thing in all of Hell capable of connecting to Earth from anywhere in Hell.

This was a colossally bad idea. Lucifer wasn’t one to break his promises.

But then again, all shelters[9] would probably be closed already. It _was_ Christmas Eve.

He dialled the urchin’s number and waited. She picked up almost immediately. ‘Lucifer!’ she said. And then, less excitedly, ‘Mum’s worried, you know. You didn’t call.’

He could practically see her cross her arms, as well as one could when holding one’s phone. He said, ‘The meeting took longer than anticipated. But listen, urchin, if I were, hypothetically, to give you a dog, what would you, hypothetically, name it?’

‘Hang on,’ she said, snickering and a little too smart, ‘are you talking about a Hellhound? Are giving me a Hellhound? You gotta Name those to shape their personality, right? I know you do, Adam told me _all_ about it.’

A little too smug, too.

Lucifer looked at the almost identical quintet of pups lying on the ground. Their mother sensed his intentions before he even moved and snarled at him, saliva dripping from her mouth. He fixed her with a carmine stare. She retreated and bowed her head.

‘Well, perhaps, perhaps not,’ he said. It didn’t count as a lie. ‘What would it be, then?’

‘Hmm.’ There was a pause. ‘Let me think. I think I would Name my Hellhound…’

He picked up the one on the far right. It was a male with pointy ears, a white belly, and a mouth made to lacerate. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.

‘You belong to Beatrice Decker,’ he told him with all the conviction he could muster. Which was a lot, being the King of Hell and having supernatural powers. The Hound blinked in acknowledgement and bared his tiny teeth. To her, he said, ‘This stays between us, alright?’

‘So I _am_ right,’ she giggled. ‘And I Name my Hellhound Muffin.’

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up. ‘ _Muffin_? Seriously?’

‘They will be a sweet and cute dog who likes to cuddle and chase away enemies who underestimate them for their name and size,’ she said. Her words were definitive, delivered with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what was what. For a second there, he was reminded of Adam, and denied an oncoming shudder its way.

The Hellhound heard them too, and suddenly, he became a ball of white curls with a dark snout, and licked Lucifer’s hand. He was a _bichon_. A Hellhound, a bloody bichon! Lucifer shook his head. But he suppressed the thought about being a waste of a perfectly good royal specimen. He was a gift for Chloe’s child. Even as a bichon, he would _protect her_.

‘Well, that’s that, then,’ he said.

‘What do they look like?!’ Trixie asked. Her excited grin was audible even through the phone.

‘He’s a he. And I won’t say. It’s a surprise.’

‘Don’t you say that we should _always_ get what we want?’

Lucifer laughed. ‘You learn well, child, but I learnt better.’ It was outrageous, though, that not even _he_ could always get what he wanted. ‘Are you with Chloe now?’

‘Yep. But I’m going to Dad’s later.’

‘Excellent. Tell her to come along to the penthouse, will you? I’ll be there shortly.’

That was the plan, anyway: spending the day by themselves at the penthouse, and then migrating to Linda and Amenadiel’s in the morning for presents and roasting a turkey. Everyone would be there, even Dan and Maze and Eve and Ella.

‘Sure. Bye, Lucifer!’

‘Goodbye, urchin.’

Lucifer pocketed the phone and looked Muffin in the curious brown eye. He scoffed at the child’s ridiculous choice for a Name, but he did have to admit he was somewhat adorable. ‘Let’s go then, shall we?’ He turned to the mother. ‘You can keep the rest[10]. Go on, then.’

She ran to her litter, and Lucifer closed the door behind himself, Muffin stuffed into his breast pocket. Good thing he was small enough to fit inside. He found the lift and made his way to the Lobby and LA, ignoring the strange looks he got from everyone around him. _Yes, that’s a dog in my pocket, so what? You’re demons, you’ve seen stranger things_ [11] _._

By 10 a.m., he was sitting on his sofa and drinking his expensive alcohol[12]. Chloe texted him she’d be there in half an hour and would bring some of the cookies Trixie and she had made. He didn’t tell her about Muffin.

Speaking of, he was currently napping on the other end of that sofa, fed and without a care in the world or much of an idea of what he’d been not so long ago. Lucky him, Lucifer thought. If it worked like that with the Fallen, with demons…

No matter. This was no time to dwell on the past. This was a time for looking ahead. A time of love and miracles, those wankers Upstairs called it, very pretentiously, sprinkling miracles all over but having about as much love as a thin and crooked Christmas tree—Amenadiel and Aziraphale excluded.

And perhaps Michael, if he were being generous. She _was_ the one who had reached out to them and instigated the idea of an armistice once and for all.

Either way, he waited, and drank, and waited some more, and then, when the bell finally rang and announced Chloe’s arrival, strode to her and pulled her in for a kiss. ‘Now, before you go and snog me senseless on the sofa, there’s someone you need to see.’

‘Hello to you too, Lucifer,’ she laughed. ‘Please don’t tell me you have a hooker in here or something.’

‘No, worry not, detective. You have made it clear that we are to live in a monogamous relationship now that we’re engaged, and I will respect that till the day you tell me you’d like to try a threesome.’ She snorted. _Incorrigible_ , that said. She left her handbag—carrying something box-shaped, probably a box of biscuits—by the bar and let him lead her towards the sofa.

Then she saw the dog and froze. ‘That’s a puppy. A puppy for Trixie.’

‘Yes. His name is Muffin, a 100% bichon, absolutely not a Hellhound at all. I was told they’re friendly and love to cuddle but still are great watchdogs.’

‘Absolutely not a Hellhound at all,’ she parroted, deadpan.

‘That’s right[13],’ he smiled charmingly. He took her hand and continued in their very short journey to the sofa. When they dropped down onto the cushions, Muffin woke up and pricked up his ears, blinking at them. He whined softly. 

Chloe narrowed her eyes. ‘Lucifer.’

‘I have some good news,’ he said, purposefully switching gears. ‘It looks like we might actually negotiate the Armistice Treaty soon enough for it to come into force by June. And for us, well, that would mean—’

‘What?’

‘If we get married in June, or later, you will legally be my equal, my Queen Consort.’ He brow furrowed. She squeezed his hand. _What do you mean?_ ‘In case something happens, in case I’m unavailable and you’re in danger, in case demons come to Earth—well, you’d have full authority to make them do as you say, and be able to deputise for me as a member of the Triumvirate[14].’

Her eyes widened. ‘ _How_? I mean, is that even… physically possible?’

‘There are ways,’ he said, evasively. ‘Not that I’d let anything happen to you, darling, not ever. But—’ His breath hitched in his throat. ‘It would make me feel better, knowing there’s the possibility. I _did_ fight for the chunk on human-celestial relationships to be added into the Treaty.’

So did Amenadiel. So did Maze. These were progressive times, and Earth _was_ sort of caught up in the middle of it. It concerned humans, whether they had a clue or not, and these celestials sure as Hell and Heaven both weren’t going to leave them out just because it was an agreement between _them_.

There already lived two Nephilim on the Earth. There might be more in the future—what did any of them know? It was better to prepare for all eventualities, even the least probable ones, than to haggle over things when they blew up in one’s face.

‘I guess that settles the date of the wedding, then,’ Chloe said softly. She let go of Lucifer’s hand and brought her palms up to his face. She ran a hand across the stubble on his cheek and her thumb along his slightly parted lips. ‘June it is.’

She smiled and kissed him, tenderly. It was the kind of kiss he only tasted from her. The woman who agreed to marry the Devil, knowing who he was.

‘Well, we must still hope someone won’t cause a scene and postpone everything by another half-year,’ he said when they parted. Lucifer thought mainly of Sandalphon. He didn’t trust that bastard angel in the least. ‘That would be very unfortunate.’

‘Yeah.’ Chloe bit her lip. ‘Do you think we can plan a wedding in half a year? Especially the wedding of the _King of Hell_ , oh my God, will all the angels and demons want to come? What if—’

He silenced her with another kiss, a hand in her hair. ‘Don’t worry about that now; there’s plenty of time, Chloe. What I _would_ worry about are those sweets you brought and your Devilish fiancé being very very sad he didn’t get to be in bed with you two nights in a row. Dealer’s choice on how he means that.’

With a roll of her eyes, she got up and fetched the box. The smell of cinnamon and honey and cocoa and nuts drifted out of it as soon as she took off the lid. Lucifer grabbed a piece of something dark.

Chloe said, ‘Seeing as we have all day and night, I think we can do both.’

_Merry Christmas to me_ , he thought as he tasted the biscuit. It was utterly delicious, sweet and bitter yet, and dissolved on his tongue. An appreciative moan slipped out of his mouth.

‘Wonderful,’ he said, and kissed the smirk right off Chloe’s mouth.

* * *

1 Not that demons often dreamt at all. They were avoiding it if possible because when dreams came, they tended to turn into nightmares. It came with the very nature of Hell.[✿]

2 Which was _already_ a rescheduled date; originally, the meetings were supposed to take place on the first Monday of the month, but things went sideways sometimes around October because demons were _never_ on time.[✿]

3 Needless to say, the gingerbread men became gingerbread demons, and even an angel or two—mostly on Linda’s insistence. Amenadiel and Lucifer couldn’t feel left out, could they?[✿]

4 Between one demon Crowley and one prince Beelzebub, submerged in baths full of mud. At a spa. They were drunk. It was the night of Anathema’s hen do, and Beelzebub only came for the drinks and single night off, but none of them ever forgot that conversation.[✿]

5 There was Dagon, still married to an Archangel from the times Before the Fall. Opposite of him sat Beelzebub, who had an affair with another Archangel. And next to zir was Mazikeen, an honorary Lesser Demon member, who had also had an affair with yet another Archangel. It was a simple maths.[✿]

6 ‘They went behind everyone’zz back like that, secretly meeting for centuries, lying in their reports, doing each other’zz _jobs_. But if we’re official about this—’

‘No one can say we’re traitors! I like your thinking.’[✿]

7 _Say that to Lilith_ , she said. _Say that to me_.[✿]

8 There were also common kennels for common Hellhound mutts, in the building that hosted Earth Department. But in the Castle itself lived only the purebred beasts worthy of serving the King himself.[✿]

9 Listen, he wasn’t one to support charities, being the Devil and all, but getting a dog from a shelter was Chloe’s only request on the whole matter. Well, also that Trixie should dump the dog on Lucifer first and foremost if she couldn’t take care of it for some reason, because it was _his_ idea and _his_ rash promise.[✿]

10 You might note that five-week-old puppies should not be separated from their mothers and handled too much. Well, Hellhounds were a little more evolved than that. They were no ordinary dogs, for sure. So even in the form of a bichon, Muffin was fully capable of existing on his own, given you provided all the food and drink he needed.[✿]

11 They have, in fact, seen _Stranger Things_ as well. TV Fridays were a smashing success, and really did lift the morale of the place. Even the Princes deigned the Auditorium with their presence on most of those nights if the rumours Lucifer has heard were true. He wouldn’t know. He spent his Fridays having his own Netflix and Chill sessions with the love of his life.[✿]

12 He’s had one _Hell_ of a day, so fuck everything, he could drink in the morning if he wanted to.[✿]

13 Technically, it _wasn’t_ wrong. He only left out the information that he was _no longer_ a proper Hellhound, quite like Adam Young’s Dog. He was completely alright; she had met him at Anathema and Newt’s wedding.[✿]

14 Also known as Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Belial, the new, equal rulers of Hell.[✿]


	2. in which wings are preened and surprises spoilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pure, self-indulgent fluff. (though the rating went up a bit... but nothing graphic! it's mostly just to be safe)  
> enjoy ♡

_Utter bliss._

Those two words about summed up Lucifer’s current situation, which was considerably much more pleasant than it was two days ago.

He wasn’t even fully awake yet, but he could surmise as much. He could feel the sun shining through the clouds and the curtains, the warmth of Chloe’s body pressed against his chest, her breath, a wave of delightful shivers surging through his wings.

He had unfurled them at some point yesterday when Chloe was on top of him and he couldn’t stand the beauty of her, the pleasure, his—third? fourth?—climax, the _love_. Because despite everything, he was still very much an angel and could feel the love radiating from her when he paid it special attention and got attuned to it.

He’d flipped her on her back and covered the entire king-sized[1] bed under those luminous wings. ‘Don’t hide them,’ she had said, after. ‘Please, Lucifer.’ And he had fallen asleep with her safely tucked under his soft feathers. It was a gesture considered utmost intimate among angels, Fallen or otherwise, and communicated his absolute trust in her.

They’ve never done that before, actually. He had allowed her to groom his wings, yes, but always folded them back into the celestial plane afterwards. One did not simply parade around Earth with their wings out unless it was an emergency[2].

An interestingly content sound came out of Lucifer’s throat, and he decided he needed to see her. He blinked his eyes open. Chloe was running her hand along his primaries and secondaries and straightening a few ruffled feathers, like he’s taught her. He felt even the slightest of moves to the core because really, an angel’s wings were the _utmost_ sensitive extremity.

‘Hello, detective,’ he purred. It was more of an inside joke these days. She stopped and looked up at him with a smile and a completely tousled hair. She was wearing in his shirt, which she’d picked up off the floor earlier. ‘Don’t stop. That was very nice, what you were doing.’

‘Good morning,’ she said, resuming the rubbing. His right wing, the neglected one, the one that covered her back, twitched and raised a gust of air.

Lucifer said, almost in wonder, ‘It’s uncanny.’

‘Mm. What is?’

‘You’re a natural talent.’

Really, they’ve only done it twice, and Chloe has never had a pet bird as a child—as much as he hated comparing angels to birds, it _would_ help—but he almost, _almost_ couldn’t tell the difference between her and someone who had practice with their own wings. 

She propped her chin on his chest and placed her other hand right where his heart was. ‘Would you like me to preen your wings? Properly?’ Her eyes flicked to the alarm clock on the nightstand. ‘It’s only eight a.m.’

Lucifer repositioned his wings, stretched them out. The feathers did feel rather uneven and even itchy at points because frankly, it has been a while, and while it took him a while to accept having them back, he did get used to caring for them regularly again. And, you know, Christmas spirit and all.

And they had time more than enough[3].

‘That would be absolutely wonderful, darling,’ he said. ‘They’re in sore need of a good preen. Hang on; I’ll sit up.’

Chloe rolled onto her back, and he disentangled his left wing from her body and the rumpled sheets. Flapping them both in the air and creating _more_ wind, he sat up. Chloe spat hair out of her mouth and laughed. ‘Lucifer, stop doing that! You’ll mess them up even more.’

‘Excuse you, you’ve been lying on my left wing all night, it was all sore and needed a stretch,’ he said with partially pretend annoyance, turning his head around to glance at her. She was stunning like that, in the crumpled shirt and nothing underneath.

‘Fair enough. Sorry,’ she said, not sorry in the slightest and fully knowing it was meant as a jest. She scooted closer to him and pressed a hand against the dip between his shoulder blades. And wings. ‘Do you want me to—’

‘Anywhere is good, I don’t care.’

‘Okay.’ And that blissful feeling was back. Her fingers carded into the scapular feathers close to his back, and Lucifer closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it. Feathers were aligned and protected from getting wet and mucky[4] with the powder, into which the small and soft down beneath them turned on touch.

‘Is that good?’ she asked. ‘Am I doing it right?’

‘For a human, yes.’

She didn’t deign him with an answer. He’d bet she just rolled her eyes, and then methodically made her way through the base of his wing and onto the coverts. It was like fingertips on skin, gentle and goosebump-inducing, and yet so different—when one preened other’s wings, they touched their celestial form and essence as well, as they were the one part connecting the human form to the truest one. Very, very sensitive indeed.

‘Go back to that spot before,’ he told her. ‘It’s itching, the feather wants out—oh, yes, precisely that one. There are more; I can feel it.’

‘They’re sort of loose, right?’ she asked, assuring herself of what he’s already told her once. She shifted on the bed, sitting cross-legged. Human bodies got awfully sore all the time and couldn’t remain long in one position; that was one advantage of being _given_ a body and therefore being able to ignore certain things.

He couldn’t ignore the budding arousal though. Oh, this was getting _better_.

Chloe methodically made her way through all the coverts and the secondaries to the primaries, all the while humming the tune of _Let It Snow_. It was a bit of a paradox, what with the sunshine and the rain forecast for the afternoon, he thought. She told him that the song wormed its way into her head when she rubbed the white powder down into his feathers. It was almost like snow[5].

Shivers went down his back, neck to crotch, at every touch. And when she was done, Chloe traced the edge of the wing and pressed a kiss to the curve of his spine. It was the last straw in the pile of wonderful sensations, and not even he who took pride in his celestial willpower could hold back anymore.

His second, smaller pair of wings, which all Cherubim had and which she had no idea about, manifested itself with a soft _whoosh_ , and left Chloe gasping.

‘Lucifer, you have—that’s another pair of wings!’

‘Good job, detective. Yes, I have a second pair of wings.’

‘But— _how_?’

He knew what she meant. How come you didn’t have more scars, before? How come we only found one pair? How come you never talked about them, or showed them to me?

‘There are many kinds of angels,’ he began, trying not to sound too condescending. ‘I’ve told you. And I was—am—a Cherub. Second highest. And that’s why I have a second pair of wings. Except they’re practically useless; one is good enough for flight and wrapping around beloved beings, thank you very much. They’re also easier to hide and _keep_ hidden[6], so I have no reason to mention them.’ He scoffed. ‘Except now, apparently.’

‘Did I do that? Is this like—angelic sex or something?’

‘On the metaphysical level, it would be,’ he answered. It wasn’t as straightforward as that, but touching one’s wings in that sphere, well. Pretty damn intimate. Orgasmic even. His hardening cock would agree. ‘But I—have a theory. I think, that just as you make me vulnerable, you make me—feel things, Chloe Decker. You reminded the Devil what love feels like, and now I can’t stop being tapped into it.’

‘Oh,’ she breathed.

‘It’s an angel thing.’

‘And with me, you’re becoming… more of an angel. Your old self. Like your wings.’

He was glad about that one. You couldn’t preen the leathery, bat-like wings, no sir.

‘I’ve never been a demon, mind. But yes. I think. Anyway, Linda would be happy with me; I must tell her all about this later, how wonderfully I grow as a person. I should get extra presents!’

Chloe snorted. ‘ _Now_ you’re being your old self.’ With one more kiss to the top of his spine, she started on his right wing. ‘I’ll do the smaller ones after, if you want me to?’

No one has touched them for at least as long as he’s been in LA. They _ached_ to be preened.

Lucifer just hummed in agreement. She was _really_ good with her hands—and not just doing detective work, or with his wings, no, in bed, too! To have them around his prick right now… She was such an alluring, beloved creature. His _fiancée_.

He, the actual Devil, was nigh a mess when she was done[7]. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her chest against his winged back, just breathing and smiling and _warm_. It was well past nine on the clock now.

And Lucifer heard whines coming from the living room area. Muffin needed feeding[8].

He sighed. ‘So this is how the very nice Christmas Day morning comes to an end: with a hungry dog. Of course.’

Chloe let go of him, and he got out of bed, all wings gone the instant his feet touched the floor. He almost missed the weight. Huh. He collected the rest of his clothes and put on a pair of briefs and a black dressing gown before stalking into the kitchen, where he kept the soft pieces of chicken breast he’d obtained for him yesterday. He washed his hands and took the meat out of the fridge. 

The puppy was unapologetically enthusiastic when he nothing but _smelt_ the food Lucifer was laying onto a porcelain plate[9] for him. Lucifer knew the appetite of Hellhounds; it seemed like there still was more of one in him than he thought[10]. He carried the plate to him.

All of a sudden, the lift dinged, and its doors slid open. He stopped dead in his tracks, frowning. Just _who_ thought they could come into his private penthouse on this day, at this hour? ‘Brother, if that’s you, I assure you—’

‘Lucifer! Mummy!’ said Beatrice, charging towards Lucifer in full speed, sans an adult to accompany her. She sneaked out, the little demon!

‘Trixie?’ Chloe called from the bathroom. ‘Monkey, what are you doing here? Where’s Dan?’

‘I think he might’ve texted you?’ she said, twisting her face into a grimace. ‘I left him a note, anyways. I couldn’t wait to see Muffin!’

At that, her eyes darted to the little comfy bed they’d made for him out of a blanket and a pillow. The white puppy was standing on all four and gazing at them curiously. ‘Oh my gosh, he’s so cute! Just as I imagined[11]! Hi, Muffin, I’m Trixie!’ She ran to him and crouched to be on his level. Lucifer followed with the food. Muffin was already sniffing and licking at her hand. She laughed and cooed, ‘Yeah, alright, boy. Nice to meet you too. You’re a good Hellhound, aren’t you?’

In that moment, Chloe chose to join them. She narrowed her eyes at Lucifer. ‘Hellhound? Lucifer, you said he was a normal dog, you—’ She punched him in the arm.

‘Ow!’ he said, dramatically, and rubbed at the spot. ‘As you can see, he’s _no longer_ one. He’s just a bichon puppy that will grow into a bichon adult. Mostly. But I can assure you, it’s perfectly safe!’

Probably. Hopefully. Again, his son’s Dog was the only specimen of such a beast. 

‘I love him.’ Trixie giggled. She offered Muffin a piece of chicken from the plate, and he took it with a wiggle of his tail. And then she leapt and wrapped her arms, sticky fingers and all, around Lucifer. ‘Thank you, Lucifer. I love you too.’

And—hang on.

‘Child, you—’

‘You’re marrying my mum, Lucifer, but even so you already count as family. The best family ever!’

‘Oh.’

Lucifer would lie if he said he wasn’t moved by this—and he _didn’t_ lie. She was Chloe’s child, a part of his life whether he liked it or not. And she’s grown on him through the years. Enough for him to trust her with giving her a Hellhound pup. With his cars. Well—he’d do anything to protect her.

He slowly put his arms around her as well, and gave her a half-smile. ‘Though this doesn’t change anything about the fact that you were supposed to go Linda’s with Dad, and not charge in here unannounced[12] to unwrap your present early, so to speak!’

What if they were still in bed? What if Chloe were doing more than just preening his wings, hmm? Really, even he knew there was trouble with a child witnessing that sort of thing.

‘Yes, Monkey, Lucifer is right,’ Chloe said. She turned to him. Her eyes were stern. ‘And _we’re_ going to talk about this, okay?’

‘About what? It’s all cleared it up, isn’t it?’

She shook her head in fond disbelief. Next thing he knew, she was wrapped around him—and Trixie, who has not let go—as well. She planted a kiss on his black-clad shoulder. ‘You’re well damn lucky I love you, you foolish angel.’ She pressed another kiss on top of Trixie’s head. ‘Both of you. My incorrigible monkeys.’

‘I beg your pardon, I’m not a monkey! I’m the Devil himself!’ There it was, that faux indignation again. Except, this time it did hurt a little, even if it were a nickname. _Monkey_!

Chloe smiled into his chest. ‘Please don’t ever change.’

On the floor, Muffin was happily and wetly munching on his meat, ignoring everything beyond that plate.

‘We should better get dressed and ready to go,’ Chloe said, looking up at Lucifer.

‘I’ll carry Muffin in my purse,’ Trixie announced. She wiggled out of the embrace. ‘I bet he can’t wait to meet the rest of the family. And Adam and Dog! We gotta meet up with them again soon. Mummy, do you think that they could come here and play with us during that super important meeting on New Year’s Day? They could ask Uncles Crowley and Aziraphale[13] for a lift.’

Chloe considered this for a moment. She put her hand on her shoulder and said, ‘If Adam’s parents let him, why not.’

‘Awesome! This is gonna be the _best_ Christmas ever.’

Muffin yapped in agreement. Lucifer would know. He could speak dog, Hellhound or otherwise.

‘You know what, urchin, I think it just might,’ he said, ‘if we can get everyone to adopt that bloody Treaty and say adieu to Armageddon for all eternity.’

* * *

1 What other kind of bed would the actual King of Hell have?[✿]

2 Like, for example, protecting a detective from bullets, flying her onto a rooftop, and stopping Cain from hurting anybody else.[✿]

3 Trixie would surely be eager to open her presents and meet Muffin, but Linda did tell them not to come in before ten o’clock. They’d have to wait. Lucifer’s wings were just as important, thank you very much.[✿]

4 To angels, this did not happen as often as to birds, naturally. But sometimes, there just were occasions when you had to fly in rainy weather or extend your wings to show the denizens of Hell your might and got them all grimy with slime and cobwebs that were all over the walls because the wings were just too large for the confines of the Earth Department building. [✿]

5 Both the cold kind and the fun kind of snow, really.[✿]

6 Archangels of the Cherubim, or a certain Fallen specimen of snake disposition, had different views on the matter, though. His second pair was about as large as a regular angel’s first, and since it was less shiny and prominent, he preferred to manifest that one so as not to be recognised by virtue of his rather uniquely and obviously coloured first.[✿]

7 So were the sheets. Her fingers were a little too busy to pleasure all the parts of him that demanded attention, so he—well. They needed changing anyway after last night.[✿]

8 Lucifer has left water for him, so that wasn’t a problem, but he was afraid he forgot about him and his need for food. He was too occupied with the matters of his own flesh to mind a dog, but really, you’d be asking too much of him if you thought he could keep this creature he’s had only for the night at the forefront of his mind.[✿]

9 He didn’t know that Earth dogs usually ate from bowls and not from plates like humans—but even if he did, he didn’t own a dog bowl. So.[✿]

10 Lucifer, for the most part, had no idea that Dog wasn’t particularly Hellhoundish mostly thanks to the charmed horseshoe that hung above Jasmine Cottage. He _was_ the first Hellhound-turned-dog upon Naming, after all.[✿]

11 The magic, this time, was more in the Hellhound than the child, given that she wasn’t the Antichrist, but nevertheless, it was there.[✿]

12 Again.[✿]

13 At the very conclusion of the Council meeting, Mazikeen had said the one thing the other demons hadn’t dared: if there were someone who should attend the final meeting, it was the two of them. It was thanks to them that it was happening in the first place, never mind Michael. They were the catalysts. And this was Hell; they have always prided themselves on fairness towards everyone! And so, the couple was invited, rather last-minute, via text message.[✿]

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos sustain me ♡
> 
> next up: [a piece from the ineffable husbands' side](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977974).
> 
> also, there will be more background on how the idea of the treaty came to be; I'll be posting four instalments preceding this story, which I meant to do before this, but then I had no time and Christmas was coming, so I decided to post the Christmas-related works first as a part of my holiday challenge. it doesn't affect anything at all because while the series is one large story overlapping many many works, everything basically stands alone; it's just a little shuffled. it'll all come together in due time—if you read the whole thing, anyway. :)


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